Morrowind: Civil War
by WandererFuanac
Summary: The Civil War; One of the defining moments in American history. But what if it had gone differently, in a way that literally no one could have expected. With the opening of a strange portal to a strange land called "Tamriel," the Union and the Confederacy struggle to come to grips with what this new world can offer, while in Morrowind, the political landscape drastically changes.
1. The Citrine City

**Chapter 1: The Citrine City**

Vivec, the largest city in Morrowind, and the center of political and religious life for many of its inhabitants. Velothi-inspired architecture, with some of the largest man-made structures anywhere in the Empire fill the darkening sky. A truly complex city, as any of its numerous inhabitants would tell you. Home to some of the most important things in Morrowind, and yet not its capital. As the sun began to set, the twin moons of Masser and Secunda rose over the island of Vvardenfell.

Ilmeni Dren, as usual, was preparing for one of her nighttime strolls. The city was far too crowded during the day, and the peaceful night made for a much more relaxing environment. Her dislike of large crowds was a constant reminder that she was still new to the city. Vivec was a place bustling with people, hardly as quiet as the Ascadian Isles. She checked her mirror, same blue face as always, and headed out the door of her apartment.

The city of Vivec was made up of massive pyramid-shaped structures called "cantons" in which people lived, worked, and traded. These cantons were built in the waters of the Inner Sea, and were connected by numerous bridges. Ilmeni lived in the St. Delyn canton, named after the saint of glassmakers and potters, an interesting bit of history that was completely overshadowed by the fact that Ilmeni had an up close and personal view of all the sewage that flowed by whenever she looked out her window. A city planner would have marveled at how the sewers of the city directed waste away from its inhabitants. The nearby residents weren't as impressed. Ilmeni had bought the house, thinking that it was probably a good deal given the price and location. She had clearly underestimated the ability of the city's population to shit rivers, or in a few cases, shit directly into the river. Ilmeni slightly grimaced as she left her house, taking care not to breathe too much. She would have to buy some of the perfume Mevel had suggested, he had said that it helped with the smell.

Ilmeni made her way up to the top of the St. Delyn canton, stopping on the way to chat with one of the gondoliers. They had been a fixture of Vivec as long as any of its inhabitants could remember, although Ilmeni and others new to the city were discouraged from getting in them because of the ever-present smell of the canals. However, without the daytime crowds, Vivec was much easier to get around, and the Foreign Quarter was reached quickly, with the crossing of a few elevated bridges.

The Foreign Quarter was probably the friendliest quarter to "outlanders," meaning the non-Dunmer or non-native born inhabitants of Morrowind. The Dunmer, or the blue-skinned elves of Morrowind, had long resented domination by the Imperials, and had aggressively fought to keep control over Morrowind, in any way they could. Vivec, one of the centers of traditional Dunmer political authority was a party to these attempts. Any outlander entering Vivec would find immediate disdain from many of the locals. In fact, until recently, the Foreign Quarter was the only place in Vivec where outlanders were allowed.

That fact wasn't lost on Ilmeni as she headed to her friend Jobasha's bookstore, frequented by the surprisingly numerous aspiring book critics of Vivec. Jobasha was an interesting person. Being a Khajiit, the cat-like people of Tamriel, hadn't done him any favors in Morrowind. But he persevered, and rose in prominence in the eyes of the people of Vivec, collecting many rare books, which earned him many loyal customers. Ilmeni had met Jobasha one day, trying to find a copy of the "Antecedents of Dwemer Law," a difficult book to find for sure, but when she asked people where she could find it, she was surprised to hear that the book was in a small unassuming bookstore in the Foreign Quarter. Heading over there was an act of perseverance, as navigating the labyrinthine structure of Vivec was quite difficult even for people who'd lived there their entire lives.

Finally she found it, a small bookstore tucked in the corner of northernmost canton. As she entered, she noticed a plant with a tag reading "Charles the Plant." With that rather odd image in her mind she had met Jobasha, who had quickly located the book that she wanted, and recommended some others. As the weeks passed she'd talked to Jobasha about the Dwemer many, many times, there was a ton of information to go over, and was surprised to find him very knowledgeable on the subject. Sometimes, Huleeya, an Argonian, or one of the lizard-like people of Tamriel, stopped by to chat with Jobasha about what he was reading. Jobasha had become somewhat of a fixture of Vivec to many of its inhabitants, its well-read ones anyway, and it was quite a shock to Ilmeni when she saw a sign on the door to Jobasha's shop that said, "Jobasha is not here right now. He will be back soon."

This wasn't exactly unusual for Jobasha. He had often gone on trips to find more rare books, without telling anyone. So Ilmeni, as did many of his regulars, simply shrugged off the message on the door.

* * *

This was a bit of a short chapter, but I hope that it gives you a good idea of how I will use TES lore to develop the story.


	2. Through His Nightmare, Darkly

**Chapter 2: Through His Nightmare, Darkly**

Washington D.C., the true capital city of the United States, well not really according to half of the country. But regardless, a beautiful city, with wide boulevards, classical-inspired architecture, and distinct landmarks, many of which were covered in the blood and broken glass of last night's riot. Still, with the dust just beginning to settle, the sun rose on the horizon, signaling the start of a new day.

Secretary of State William Seward was worried. Not just about the riots, those at least had a clear cause, and well, clear effects that he could see. It wasn't even the general worry that had accompanied his increased stress caused by the war. No, this worry was rooted in the telegram sitting front of him. The delivery boy, Seward couldn't remember his name, had given him the note with the qualification that:

"You might want to sit down for this Mr. Seward."

To which Seward replied:

"I will decide as to my own seating arrangements."

The boy had quickly left, and Seward had quickly forgotten him, so fixated was he on the contents of the telegram:

WILLIAM H. SEWARD

WASHINGTON, D.C.

WE HAVE DISCOVERED A COMPLICATION IN THE WAR EFFORT STOP THE CONFEDERATES HAVE DISCOVERED A WAY TO ACCESS ANOTHER WORLD STOP THEY ARE INVESTIGATING IT AS YOU READ THIS STOP WE MAY ASSUME THAT THE CONFEDERATES WILL TRY TO GAIN ASSISTANCE FROM THE INHABITANTS OF THE OTHER WORLD STOP ME AND THE PRESIDENT WILL MEET WITH YOU AS SOON AS POSSIBLE TO DISCUSS THE DETAILS

EDWIN MCMASTERS STANTON

SECRETARY OF WAR

This was a situation that no one could have expected, and it had the potential to seriously complicate things. So far, the diplomatic maneuverings of the Confederacy had been limited to various attempts by Judah Benjamin to convince the Europeans, especially the British and French, to help the Confederate cause. These attempts made sense. Hell, Seward would have tried them if he was in Judah's position. But these new developments were entirely alien, unforeseen, and unaccountable in the traditional logic of diplomacy. How did one deal with the appearance of an entirely new world? How did one establish diplomatic relations with countries, if that, that likely had entirely different, or even nonexistent political systems? And most importantly, how would this affect the war? The only development of any similarity in Seward's experience was the situation of the Indian, but Seward of course regarded that as a separate matter, that was mostly resolved. Seward pondered the situation for what felt to him like hours, occasionally writing notes as he waited for the President to call him to the meeting. Finally, another messenger came to him, this time telling him to meet with the President. Seward immediately rushed over to his office.

Seward had an interesting history with Lincoln. At first, he had been under the wing of the political boss Thurlow Weed, as a member of the Whig party, much like Lincoln. He soon rose to become a governor of New York, advancing abolitionist points of view in a way still uncommon in the antebellum north. Then, in 1855, with the collapse of the Whig party, he switched his party registration to the Republicans, much like Lincoln did. In 1860, he found himself competing with Lincoln to be the nominee of the Republican party. At the convention, Seward initially had the most delegates, but moderates eventually backed Lincoln, whose more conservative views on slavery and immigration were seen as a better fit to win the election. Seward eventually campaigned for Lincoln, and secured a seat in his cabinet as Secretary of State.

However, Seward was thinking of the present as he waited for Lincoln to arrive. After several tense minutes for the Secretary, the President strode in, accompanied by his Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton.

Seward had initially disliked Stanton due to his political inclinations. However Seward, as with many aspects of his life, had used his diplomatic skills to work together with the former Democrat, most of the time anyway.

"Mr. President," Seward said, as he rose from his chair.

"Mr. Seward," the President said, "we have a situation on our hands that we haven't seen since the events of Fort Sumter. I have some intelligence to discuss, but I'll let Mr. Stanton give you some background information."

"Of course," Stanton said.

"As you know, I receive regular reports from spies all around the Confederacy. Recently, they'd been hearing rumors of a Confederate military weapon, with, and I don't take this lightly, potentially war-winning capabilities. Well we had no idea what it was, but we sent out our spies to gather more information, armed with Federal dollars, and recently one of them, Samuel Jacobson I believe, claimed to have engaged in a conversation with an army officer who had witnessed the 'weapon.' According to him, Samuel I mean, the 'weapon' was in fact not a traditional weapon at all! It was instead a 'doorway' as he called it to a completely different world."

Lincoln interjected, "Thank you, Mr. Stanton. I believe I'll continue from here. Our spy eventually snuck into where the 'doorway' was supposedly located, and gave us a description, which we have here now." Lincoln took a piece of paper out of his suit, and slapped it down on the table.

Please excuse the late arrival of this message. It is imperative that it not fall into enemy hands. I can confirm that the doorway I reported on before does exist, as evidenced by the testimony of my own eyes. Posing as a Confederate newspaper reporter, with some generous bribes along the way, sufficed enough good will to get a brief look at it. The doorway is located inside an unassuming tent, within the Northern Virginia army camp. It is around the size of a regular doorway, about 6 feet high, and three wide, enough for an army to pass through single-file. On the other side was a large marsh, with what looked like wooden huts in the distance. That brief look was all I was able get in the brief time I was allowed. Talking to another soldier, I learned that Davis had been sending small numbers of troops through the doorway. When I asked if they had anything from the other side, he directed me to one of the partakers of the reconnaissance missions. Enclosed is the object that I was able to glean from that soldier, supposedly from the other side of the doorway. I believe it to be genuine, and to serve as more direct proof of my descriptions.

-SJ

Finished reading the letter, Seward dryly commented:

"So will we see the proof of this magical doorway?"

"Yes, I believe that we've had quite enough background," the President said.

He pulled out another object from his suit. "A Brief History of the Empire, the Completed Works," read the cover.

"Here it is."

Seward snatched the book from Lincoln and started flipping through it. The book seemed to recount the history of "The Empire," mostly under the rule of the "Septim" dynasty. "The Empire" seemed to be made up of at least eight administrative entities: Skyrim, Hammerfell, High Rock, Elsweyr, Black Marsh, Valenwood, the Summurset Isle, and Morrowind. After he finished, Seward handed the book back to Lincoln. He wasn't entirely sure of what to make of it, but Seward was damned if he wasn't going to get in a word before Stanton.

"Well, I'll give you my verdict," said Seward.

"And that is?" said Lincoln.

"We have here in our possession, a book that is either a very good fake, meaning that we have been led on by a Confederate plot, or that it is genuine, in which case we have a worse situation on our hands." Seward glanced out the window.

"I can't say that it wouldn't be risky, but I would advise a fact finding mission to the other side of the 'doorway,' to find out just what in god's name is out there, and what we should do about it."

The morning sun glinted off the damaged buildings of the city, lending the conversation an uneasy backdrop.

"I'll certainly take that under consideration Mr. Seward, but Mr. Stanton, what are your thoughts on the military ramifications of this?" said Lincoln.

"Again, we'd have to find out more information about what's on the other side of this thing, but the Confederates are sure to try and take advantage of absolutely anything that could help them win this war. I concur with Seward; we have to approach this cautiously. In fact, should such a mission be approved, I could even recommend some good people for the job..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," interjected Lincoln.

"We're going to have to think this through carefully and completely. I know you, Mr. Stanton. You want to handle this yourself, but we can't have a repeat of our previous failures now can we."

"Of course not, Mr. President," said Stanton.

"Mr. Seward, do you have any more ideas?" said Lincoln.

"Well now that I'm thinking about it, Stanton's right—we won't be able to use "SJ" again. He would almost certainly come under suspicion if he attempted to access the 'doorway,' and that's if he isn't being watched already. We'll need to get someone completely new for this endeavor," said Seward.

"They do say that I have an eye for detail," said Stanton.

"At least this time Mr. Stanton," said Lincoln.

"How about you both draw up a list of candidates, and we'll chose the likely lad."

Both of the Secretaries nodded in agreement.

"Good," said Lincoln. "I look forward to the inevitable battle."

As Seward walked out of the room, he began to think up some likely candidates, quite a few came to mind.

* * *

Don't worry, Seward won't be narrating this whole story. In fact, the next chapter will return to Morrowind.


	3. The Best Job in the World

**Chapter 3: The Best Job in the World**

Balmora, meaning stone forest in Dunmeris, was no one's first choice to settle down in. Its streets were muddy, the shit in the Odai river smelled, and crime was a constant worry. These conditions hadn't stopped many people from moving there however, as all of the new buildings being built evidenced. The current nobility were high ranking members of house Hlaalu who were drawn by lucrative resource contracts. Some of the most profitable exports of Morrowind; kwama eggs and ebony had begun to flow down the Odai river—in boats of course, and the wealth generated had begun to flow into the newly-built mansions.

On the east side of the river were many small corner clubs, which catered, with food, drink, and other services, to the surge of labors that had arrived to aid in the construction of the new buildings. On the west side, the arrival of the new nobility had created a market for entirely new shops, selling every possible type of expensive clothing, all of which were far enough away from the river to avoid most of the smell. Even the Blades, the Emperor's spies, had descended upon the city, correctly assuming that there would some Hlaalu plots against the Emperor made within the walls of the new mansions. Ironically, it was the East Empire Company, an Imperial resource monopoly, that had drawn these plotters. Even they had seen the monetary benefits in giving contracts to the Hlaalu, a rare Dunmer house that favored the Empire. Glorious "free trade" under the East Empire Company had come, to the great benefit of stockholders everywhere.

Dram Bero was one of those East Empire Company stockholders. A house Hlaalu lord, he owned the Shulk egg mine, which was conveniently located just a few miles down the river from Balmora. The mine, like most in Vvardenfell, was fairly new, mostly because the colonization of Vvardenfell hadn't started in earnest until a few years prior. To the lord at least, the mines represented the future of Morrowind, a veritable entrepot of profit, for house Hlaalu anyway.

But in the wood elf Findulain's opinion, working at the Shulk egg mine was probably the worst job in all of Morrowind. Conveniently ignoring the fact that the land's many slaves worked for longer hours and infinitely less pay, Findulain continued with his lunch break with his fellow miner, Dinok, who clearly had similar opinions on the mine.

"Bloody house Hlaalu is having one of their damn inspectors come around here soon." Dinok said as he sipped his ale.

"What? Didn't they come here just last month?" said Findulain.

"You must have heard about that tax riot up in Balmora right? Bloody huge lot of people got pissed at those Hlaalu lords and tore up the town. Took weeks to clean up."

Findulain wasn't especially interested in current events, nor did he get news of them especially quickly.

"No I hadn't heard of that. Might the is the reason for the inspection?"

Dinok muttered to himself, "not the brightest bloody bulb, are we Findulain."

"Probably, yeah." said Dinok, who started eating his scrib jelly.

Findulain and his coworker soon finished their lunches, both ignorant of the real news of that day. Waiting across the river, watching them with bated breath, were several Confederate soldiers.

Inspections were not a new experience for Findulain. He'd often, due to his somewhat aristocratic background, been chosen by the mine's foreman to give the tour. Usually Findulain hated the mine, but on inspection days, he loved it. He loved the power that he had over his fellow miners. He loved the feeling of being able to direct the hand of authority, even slightly, which invigorated him, and not having to work as much didn't hurt. As a result, other miners were rarely quick in telling Findulain about rumors of inspections. He always became such a bloody prick after he'd heard about them.

The inspection continued as most inspections went in the Shulk mine; with extreme reluctance. Findulain gladly cooperated with the inspectors, showing them, with a certain amount of enthusiastic exposition, around the mine. Around the inspectors and "lord" Findulain, miners were like him in showing their pride in the Great House Hlaalu, by working diligently. The inspectors, suitably impressed, moved on, leaving the miners to immediately slow down the pace of their work. They had to pace themselves after all.

The inspectors told the mine's foreman that his mine had been "adequate," and headed off to report their findings to Balmora. Findulain, having finished the tour, went back to his absolute least favorite task in the world, mining Kwama eggs from the walls of the mine. He often said that the large bug-like Kwama creatures, who laid the massive eggs, were probably the most disgusting creatures in all of Vvardenfell. This was somewhat impressive, considering the wide variety of ugly animals inhabiting the island.

But more importantly, in the back of Findulain's mind was a memory of something that one of the inspectors had said to the foreman.

"Just wait for what this'll be like in a few months."

* * *

More intrigue... We'll return to D.C. in the next chapter.


End file.
